On a recent Sunday afternoon, the usual motley crew convened beneath the glowing billboards of Times Square. Costumed King Kong, Spiderman, and Minnie Mouse performers beckoning tourists for photos; snake guys assuring curious passersby that the reptiles draped on their shoulders really are harmless; and a group buskers announcing showtime. But there was one big difference from most days: all the soccer jerseys.
Since the World Cup began, Times Square has become one big, unofficial fan zone. Bogdan Zhukovskyi, an artist who has sold his paintings from Times Square for 15 years, tells me the groups resemble “a ship coming through the sea” because “they’re all wearing the same clothing and same colors.”
The day I visited, the pedestrian plaza at 46th Street and 7th Avenue was bright yellow ahead of Brazil’s match with Norway at MetLife Stadium, thanks to hundreds of people wearing Neymar, Vini Jr., and the odd Ronaldo jerseys. A couple weeks before, the TKTS steps at the top of the plaza were completely packed with Norway fans dressed in red doing their synchronized row. And ahead of that, a throng of Colombia supporters in yellow, red, and blue unfurled a massive flag and passed it around like a crowd surfer.
“There’s always something going on,” says Milenny Guimaraes, who had a Brazil flag wrapped around her shoulders and traveled from Boston for the weekend to watch the game in Times Square. “It’s alive here.”
That Times Square has become this beacon for the World Cup is sort of obvious—it is a tourist destination, after all—but the way it has welcomed everyone for sustained celebration and camaraderie, and become the beating heart of the tournament as a result, is much more unexpected.
It’s the result of a pretty radical idea: that people should be prioritized in one of the busiest intersections in the city. This year also marks the 10th anniversary of the completion of its pedestrianization. When cities make space for public life, it thrives.
At the top of the TKTS steps I met Edgar Manica, who was wearing a Mexico jersey and visiting from San Francisco. “I’m just looking for the vibe,” he tells me. “I want to see how people cheer for their teams.” As we were speaking, Pedro Cabas, 14, from Brazil, scrambled up the steps and asked for a selfie with Manica. “I’m taking photos with everyone with different countries on.” He had just posed for a shot with an Argentina fan.
Marcel Coelho booked a spontaneous trip to New York after learning that Brazil made it to the Round of 16. He picked a hotel a block away from Times Square after seeing so many social media videos of fellow Canarinho fans gathering there, and planned to watch the game from the Hard Rock Cafe. (Tickets to the live game were too expensive.) “Seeing a lot of Brazilians here and singing—it’s so fun,” he tells me. “It’s already worth everything just to see this.”
Some of the stunts have surprised some Times Square workers (and knowing what they see on a daily basis, that’s quite a feat). Sydney C., who has been employed in the area for a year, was astonished when she saw Norway fans sitting on the ground to prepare for their row. “It’s like, ‘Oh, y’all are going to take home a disease—don’t do that!” she tells me. “But seeing the videos of it is actually really cool.”
The scene has felt practically utopian, particularly amid tense geopolitical times: Friendly fans from all around the world displaying their respective allegiances and ultimately uniting in the name of soccer. Perhaps this is why Times Square was electric when the Great American State Fair—which depicted a nativist and insular vision of the U.S.—floundered.
A few minutes before kickoff, I found a bar to watch the match, then returned to the scene after Brazil’s loss to Norway. “The Norway fans must still be celebrating in New Jersey,” I overheard someone say as I arrived. Just then, a crowd of Mexico fans appeared through the steam wafting from a row of halal carts—an emerald ship, to borrow Zhukovskyi’s term, thanks to their green jerseys—some spinning wood matracas, some wearing lucha libre costumes, and many waving flags.
As it turned out, Dr. Simi—a pharmacy chain mascot who has also become a soccer icon—had announced a special appearance at Times Square. The elated crowd around him jumped in unison. Janelle Luna and her family traveled from Long Island to see him (and to watch the match against England at a public Hudson Yards viewing party after). I asked her what she thought of the energy here. “It’s awesome,” she tells me. “Once every four years, it’s great that there’s a bunch of Mexicans here and we get together.”
